


Pierrot

by AndyAO3



Series: Clockwork Detectives and Imported Antiques [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Backstory, Fluff, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 14:09:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6118843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndyAO3/pseuds/AndyAO3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first case like it, but sadly not the last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pierrot

**Author's Note:**

> Many much thanks to @imperfectkreis for being my sounding board on this. 
> 
> Our favorite detective's about 25-28 here. O noez human nick was old when the bombs hit. Yep. I like my headcanon that human!Nick was old and Jewish and I'm sticking to it.

The year was 2053.

Nick was new to the force back then, still full of bright-eyed idealism. The world could be cruel, sure, but back then he thought that he could make a difference. That maybe he could change something, even if it was just in his tiny corner.

Well, that all changed right quick when they brought a kid into the station.

He was tiny. Even for his age, Nick could tell that the kid was small-- the kinda small where you had to wonder if he'd ever reach five feet tall. His clothes were oversized, rolled up pant legs still managing to drag on the ground and tiny hands engulfed by the sleeves of his turtleneck. His backpack looked almost comical hanging off of his scrawny frame. The red stains on his jeans, the scrapes on his palms that he persisted in picking at, the cut on his cheek covered by a bandaid-- all par for the course for a small, active boy.

But his eyes-- dark, clever eyes. Nick could tell this kid wasn't ther type to miss a single detail. Even though the kid didn't say a word as he was led in by an officer, there wasn't a doubt in the young detective's mind about whether or not the little fella was smart. Kids like that tended to hear everything adults said around them. And at that age, the poor little guy would probably take it to heart, too.

Which got Nick to thinking that maybe the cuts and scrapes weren't so standard either.

"Wonder what's goin' on there," Nick mused, watching as the kid was led to a bench. Noting how tiny feet kicked back and forth, how those stubby hands fidgeted with frayed sleeves and chewed fingernails. Stimming, huh? Reminded Nick of the days when he'd gotten scolded for tapping his foot in class.

"You stay there now, y'hear?" the officer in charge of the kid drawled. When he received no response - no flinching, no verbal confirmation that he'd been heard, not even a glance in his direction - he scoffed and shook his head, turning away. "Damn reds," he muttered as he headed off to a back room; calling the parents was standard procedure.

Shit. At that age, Nick doubted the kid even knew what communism was. Sometimes he doubted that average Americans knew.

About then was the moment that the deputy strolled in, and Nick forced himself to straighten up in his chair. "Sir," he greeted.

"Ah, Nicky!" Giving him a wide smile, the deputy made his way over to Nick's desk and leaned against the edge of it. He was a short, balding man, with a bad combover and a beer gut. But he was also unfailingly friendly and good with people, and that made him almost perfect for his job. "Now how many times do I gotta tell ya, it's Mark. Ain't no call for callin' someone 'sir' in here."

"Sorry, sir. Old habits." Nick allowed himself to relax, but he didn't drop the honorific. "What's with the kid?"

The deputy sighed, shaking his head sadly. "Bad business, Nicky. Looks like assault."

"So you brought him in to give a witness statement?"

"Nah, we got the witness statements. The kid's the perp. Three other kids at the school backed it up. One of the teachers, too."

Nick gawked at the man, then leaned back in his chair to glance at the kid again. " _Him_? Assault somebody? Mark, I've got take-out in my fridge older than him."

"Got statements, got evidence. The kid hasn't even tried to defend himself." The deputy shrugged. "If it'll make you feel better, he's too young for us to do much. Can't really punish a nine year old."

No, but the school would. And the police could step in to protect a kid on that front, couldn't they? If the kid was wrongfully accused, surely they could do something to pitch in on his behalf. "And if he were older?"

"Well, best case scenario would be juvie. Worst case, deportation." At Nick's horrified look, the deputy added, "--he's not a citizen, Nicky. Family's only been here three years. That's just the way things are."

"Can't be right."

"Doesn't matter if it's right or not. That's just the way the law works." The deputy paused when Nick got up from his desk. "--huh? What're you doin'?"

"I'm gonna talk to the kid," Nick said, straightening his shirt out.

"C'mon, Nicky, you know that ain't how--"

"--how we do things, yeah. I got it."

Taking a breath, Nick walked over to where the kid sat on the bench. Those dark eyes flicked upward, watching him carefully as he approached. The little feet stopped kicking back and forth for a second when he eased himself down to sit cross-legged on the floor. And that round face creased slightly with a thoughtful frown, full of mistrust and uncertainty.

"Hey," Nick began, smiling at the kid. No response. "D'you like comics?" Nothing. "Y'know, Grognak, or the Silver Shroud?" Still nothing. "I like the Silver Shroud, myself. He's a detective like me, see? I mean, my job's not as cool. It kinda involves a lot more books and research, boring stuff..."

He glanced up at the kid again. There was no smile on that face. No glint of recognition or enthusiasm in those eyes. Tiny hands had resumed fidgeting, picking at scabs as the silence stretched on.

This was getting him nowhere, huh? "Guess you're not into comics," Nick murmured.

For a moment, the fidgeting stopped. Hesitantly, almost imperceptibly, the kid shook his head.

Finally! Now they were making progress. "So what _do_ you like, huh?" Nick asked, offering his best smile.

The kid lowered his head, frowning. After several seconds he sat up a little straighter on the bench and twisted to reach for his backpack. There was a moment of stuck zippers, a tiny huff of exertion as they were yanked open; he bent at an awkward angle to reach in, biting his lip as he brought out a huge, thick book with a library sticker on the cover. _The Science of Everything_ , it said in big, friendly letters with an easy-to-read font.

A tiny smile tugged at the kid's features as he laid the book flat in his lap, kicking his feet happily. Nick was glad to finally see it. "So y'like science, huh?"

An emphatic nod was his answer. The well-thumbed-through book was opened, pages were flipped through. Nick followed the kid's fingers as they pointed out things-- diagrams, pictures, paragraphs of text. The chapters on space were especially dog-eared. It wasn't hard science, filled with math and equations, but it was informative. High school level stuff, if Nick had to guess.

"Wow," he mumbled. "Pretty neat stuff." Exactly the kinda stuff that'd get a bright, quiet kid bullied. Nick would know; his thing had been forensics at that age.

Assault. Pfah! Bullshit. More like they'd decided he was an easy target. Maybe the kid had defended himself, maybe not. Either way, somebody'd figured that they didn't like his non-attitude and gotten away with their own bad one. That the kid was Chinese just made it worse; Nick had no doubt that the real perps were Americans. If it were a bunch of adults, he'd even go as far as to say it was a hate crime, if only to draw some attention to the elephant in the room and make the racists sweat.

But he couldn't police a schoolyard, could he? "Hey, kiddo," he said, "what's your name, eh?"

The kid ducked his head again, his hands bunching into tiny fists against the pages of the book. "Li," he mumbled. Three years out from the motherland, even in that single syllable his accent was thick enough to cut with a knife. No wonder he didn't talk much.

Nick smiled anyway. "Li, huh?" He realized then that his being an American was just as obvious; the way he pronounced it was rooted in the general understanding of what the word would look like in English, what it was meant to sound like to American ears. "Nice t' meet'cha, Li. I'm Nick."

Li nodded, showing he understood. His eyes darted around for a moment before they met Nick's again, as if nervous. "Nick," he began, careful to enunciate everything as well as he could, "can I ask you something?"

Hell, it was probably the most anyone had gotten out of him all day. "Go ahead, Li," Nick replied.

"If-- if you aren't happy," Li said, painstakingly slow, "then why do you smile so much?"

To say it caught him off guard would be an understatement. Shit, he'd known the kid was perceptive, but still. The hell kinda question was that? Nick sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. His smile faltered; it took him a while to get it back. When he did, he knew it wasn't half as convincing as he'd thought it was. "'Cause I gotta," he answered. "Everybody else thinks I'm happy, then they're that much happier themselves. They worry less."

"But it's a lie," the kid insisted. His shoulders sagged; he looked like he was about to cry. "Isn't that-- doesn't it make people more upset? To know you lie?"

"It just might," Nick agreed. "But most folks don't figure it out. Adults don't like it when lies get pointed out, see."

Li slumped over his book, resuming picking at his fingernails. "Kids don't like it either," he murmured.

Nick turned the statement over in his head. "Izzat why they pick on you?"

"I don't know. They just do."

"That what they were doin' today, then?"

"Yes."

Nick patted the kid on the shoulder as he stood, turning to look back at the deputy. Still leaned against his desk, arms folded. The guy had gone all hard-to-read all of a sudden. "Should you call the school, or should I? Gets out at ten past three. Still got time."

The deputy rolled his eyes and sauntered off. Nick ended up being the one to call the school.

 


End file.
